metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A New Dog, Box & Thieving Preacher This guy where K works wants to give us a dog. I�m ok with having another dog. We are down to 2 dogs and after having 7 or 8 and then going to 2, well, it feels as though there is a �dog deficit� or something. So the guy is coming over tonight to check our house to see if it is OK for Sparky (or whatever this dogs name is) to come and live with us. I am not sure why he needs to get rid of this dog. We shall just see when I meet the dog. I don�t know if he is bringing the dog now, or if it is just an inspection run prior to the actual dog drop off. Dunno. We do need another dog, though. The beagle and the Chihuahua-Rottweiler mix just don�t take care of the table scraps like Nite Nite and Sweetie did. They just turn their noses up at old bread. Hmph! Butch would have killed for bread. There are two kinds of dogs in this world. The kind that like bread and the kind that don�t. These two we have now are just not �bread dogs.� And so, I wait with anticipation for more dogs. And I am sure they will come. I opened the box on Saturday. K and I were having an argument and I was weepy and sad anyway so I thought, �What the hell. I�m already depressed, what could it hurt?� (What a glutton for punishment I am.) I opened it with trepidation and pulled out a fishing filleting knife. A brand new one. Hmmm. I guess it belonged to my brother and I guess he liked it. I pulled out a couple of scarves, some old pipes, a few letters, a picture of my mother and an old stopwatch. The only thing I could link with my brother emotionally were the old pipes. I remember him smoking them and during one period of his life he had one constantly in hand. The most bizarre thing I pulled out of the box was a letter wrote to him on May 10, 1995. The day I opened the box was May 10, 2003. I sat down to read the words I wrote on the exact day eight years before. It was a rather numbing experience. The very most unusual thing about the box was what I did not pull out - a note or letter from my sister in law. Nothing. Not a word about why she sent what she sent or why it might have meaning to me or - anything. There was just his stuff in a box mailed to me. The thing is, this box which was full of stuff, seemed very empty. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe to open the box and feel my brother's presence or something. I'm not sure. All I know is that the box which filled me with so much dread, turned out to be very empty. So, some things are resolved in my life. The box is gone, well emptied of it's stigma, anyway. And, it is no longer on my kitchen table greeting me each time I pass through. So, that is complete - my brother is dead, I went to the funeral and I have a few of his belongings to remember him by. Blah. Some things are not resolved. I still have not found the library book. GAAAAAHHHH I am going to try to dream about it and see if I can remember that way. It worked once before when I threw my wedding ring out a two- story window into the back yard in a fit of rage (�I hate you!� waahhh, etc.). When I calmed down and we made up, I wanted my ring back but could not find it anywhere in the yard. I worried and fussed about it so much that one night I dreamed EXACTLY where it was. I woke up the next morning and walked RIGHT TO IT! It was really weird. Cool, but weird. So, I guess I will try that. Yeah, that will work. We are supposed to go to the preacher�s house for dinner tonight. I dread it so much. Kent just starts talking about crap that he doesn�t really feel and goes on and on about it. We will probably be there until midnight. Blah. If I see my library book over at their house, I�m going to be very pissed. Imagine, a preacher stealing a library book. Hmph. The very idea. 9:03 a.m. - 2003-05-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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